What happens at sea
by mimidi
Summary: ... stays at sea. Drabbles featuring Whitebeard, Marco, Ace, Thatch, Shanks, Garp, Luffy and the Strawhats, Garp and OC's. Contains slash.
1. No love for old people

It was happening again.

Well, not really.

Every once in a while, the Whitebeard pirates encountered some youngsters who thought they were Billy Badass and could actually take on their legendary captain. They were usually dispatched without a second thought but this time, it was different. For one, their ship was so big it had a forest on deck. Then the crew was mostly comprised of women. Pretty women. And their captain, beautiful enough to give Shirahoshi a run for her money, was standing before Whitebeard (and towering over him by at least a head), lost in a very lengthy explanation about the virtues of volcanic soil and pepper corns.

This woman didn't want a fight, she wanted to buy some uninhabited islands in their territory to plant things on them. Well, Marco thought as he surveyed the forest, given the amount of plants everywhere, the request seemed legit enough.

"… I love you." His ears caught the awe-struck declaration and resisted the urge to face-palm. Thatch had joined the conversation.

"Uhm. Thanks. Very flattering, I'm sure. Anyway," she went on, turning back towards the captain in a flurry of petals and long green skirts, "you can't say no! I mean, it's a wonderful opportunity – I get perfect pepper corns, and the people on the nearby islands get jobs with good pay and the healthcare benefits Marine officials can only dream of, and we have this re-integration program for homeless children, everybody wins! Please?" she clasped her hands in front of her heaving chest and looked at Whitebeard with impossibly large, shiny eyes.

"I say throw in a few bags of that pepper and your personal Den-Den Mushi and we've got a deal!"

"Yes! Wait, what?" The woman turned to look down her nose at Thatch, who grinned shamelessly. Until Whitebeard's eyes caught something and he froze. Like a man in a trance, he pushed his son and the tall woman aside and walked slowly towards another woman who had just stepped off the forest-ship. This one was also beautiful, but in a more understated way. She looked to be in her forties, a little shorter than Whitebeard, with light brown hair and green eyes. She appeared to be in a similar state of shock.

"My God," he said quietly. "Emily?"

"Edward?"

And Marco felt his face fall. He must be quite a sight, with his mouth gaping open and his eye twitching, a small part of him noted while filing its talons. But that wasn't the point.

"Pops," he said weakly. "Who is that?"

"Ah, yes. Marco, everyone, this is Emily Fairbrook. We were sweet on each other we were younger, back in… are you all right?"

"Why don't you two go somewhere private? I'm sure you have a lot to catch up on," the captain interjected with a broad smile and stars in her eyes, while a long vine sneaked out of her belt and gently nudged Marco out of sight, behind a fold of glittering green fabric. "I'm sure cook-san will be more than happy to fix you something nice, won't he?" she looked pointedly at Thatch, who shook himself. "Yes. What will it be, sir, madam?"

"Tea. Goa Grey with mint," Whitebeard said decisively.

"I can't believe you remember," Emily said with a smile.

And with that they left for the forest ship, whose entire crew in turn poured onto the Moby Dick (there weren't that many of them, actually). Ace sent his Hotarubi to shimmer among the trees, and Thatch herded every cook available to prepare cakes and other things to go with the tea, and the Nurses strapped Marco to a infirmary bed and gave him a sedative.

**A few days ago my Grandma, aged 76, received a phone call from an ex-boyfriend from about 60 years ago. I feel your flabbergastedness, Marco.**


	2. Stress-relief

Marco had meant to plan for the mission ahead. Really he had. It wasn't his fault that Ace was narcoleptic or that Thatch was a dumbass. A grabby dumbass with no sense of propriety. He huffed and pushed Thatch's hand away from his ass, tapping the map with the tip of his pen and glaring. Thatch just grinned and shuffled closer. Marco tried to look stern, but for some reason Thatch's bare chest oh-so-close-but-not-quite was extremely distracting.

Maybe they should just go in guns blazing and swords swinging and hope for the best.

Marco shook his head. It was the sake. Had to be, because there was no way he and Thatch were doing the wild thing with Ace passed out next to them.

Right.

So.

Thatch was kissing him. Fuck. Yes. No. Marco tried to push the larger man away from him (yeah right) but miscalculated (it was very hard to be accurate with his teasing lips and rough hand smoothing over his exposed side) and they ended up toppling over Ace. Marco finally put some heart into it and shoved Thatch away, but ended up in his arms anyway when he scrambled off the narcoleptic kid too fast than the cramped tent allowed. Ace didn't budge and subsequently encouraged Thatch, who wrapped his arms around the blond and lowered his lips to the side of his neck. He remained still for a few seconds, until Marco finally gave up and tilted his head to give him better access. His lover complied immediately, kissing and nibbling at the tan skin and running his hands over his torso, reveling in the muscles tensing under his touch. Marco moaned quietly, arching, and Thatch allowed himself a quiet satisfied chuckle. Truth be told, the first division commander had lately acceded to that particular level of "stressed" usually reserved for the living dead in graves of paperwork, which was rather strange for a pirate but there you were. The best fix was for this state was to take him to a secluded place, throw him on his back and fuck him good and proper (and then let him sleep his fill). Unfortunately that was not an option with important crime to be done, so a quick frolic would have to do.

His hand nudged away the sash and he caressed Marco through layers of fabric, covering his mouth with his other hand to stifle his moans. He hummed against his neck and disposed of the pants and boxers with practiced ease. He caressed the pale inner thigh while placing a small kiss to heated cheek before focusing the entirety of his attention to slowly but surely getting him off, trying his very best to ignore the spikes of pleasure running through him every time Marco squirmed and managed to brush against the hard bulge in his pants. He growled and bit down hard enough to draw blood. "Sit still will you? Tryin' to focus here! You wanna… aghhh… wake the kid?" Whatever response the other had was lost against his palm and the orgasm that racked Marco's body into a boneless mess. He smiled and lapped at the mark he'd made. He knew it would be gone by the time Ace woke up, but for now he indulged in this rare display of ownership. And then Marco pulled away and, with far more speed than a man in his condition should have, locked lips with him and shoved his hand down his pants. Very considerate of him.

It was much, much later, when Marco and Thatch's breathing had returned to normal, their composure regained and his own heavy erection had subsided that Ace deemed it safe to finally open his eyes.


	3. What's in a name?

**Yes. I went there.**

The first thing they found that they have in common (besides that blasted D everyone was so paranoid about) was a general dislike for their given names. Scarlet was just so sharp, so abrasive, it called for blame and asked for nine kinds of trouble. It had a bloody ring to it, even more than the other part of her name she didn't like to pronounce at all, not even in the privacy of her own mind. When she'd been old enough to speak and keep up with Granny's brisk pace, whenever the old woman would introduce her, she'd give a sharp tug to her sleeve and say, "'m Lettie", until everyone in the village knew her as Lettie and nothing else. Well, Granny's Lettie sometimes, but that anything but bothersome. It gave her the feeling she belonged to something real, something solid (too solid. You did not want Granny boxing your ears, no sir), and she was happy for a time.

Then she showed up.

A massive pirate ship, so big it seemed to swallow the horizon with its deck covered in massive trees and the Jolly Roger, a skull painted with colorful flowers, bigger than the carpet in Granny's great room, flowing in the breeze. Lettie saw I coming well before it reached port and ran home where, hidden under a loose floorboard in her room, was a sword. She snatched it and ran towards the sea.

Two men and a woman came ashore in a largest dinghy she'd ever seen, and wandered into town. They didn't look all that threatening. They were clean, seemed unarmed and, instead of the manic, bloodthirsty grins from stories, their expressions were, for lack of a better word – _normal_. The woman, nose buried in a piece of paper, looked like a village goodwife out shopping. The older of the men looked like a fisherman, gently steering the woman who didn't pay attention to the road, and the other just looked around curiously. They headed into the marketplace and, after a few minutes, the tension pretty much dissipated. Lettie tried to convince herself it was not disappointment she was feeling as she turned to head back home. Until an unknown voice called her name in a rather strange way. "Miss Lettie! Hey, miss Lettie!" She turned and, to her surprise, saw the young pirate waving a piece of paper in her direction. "Wait a bit!" he yelled and jogged to catch up to her. Her was rather handsome, more so than any village lad. "The greengrocer said your Grandmother sells healing herbs. I would like to buy some, could you guide me to your house?" "I guess," she said. "Follow me." "Thanks a lot, Miss. I'm not very good with directions."

They followed the beaten dirt path to Granny's house in silence. He was just a hair taller than her, with dark skin and curly black hair and soft brown eyes. There was something homely about him, maybe the slouch of his shoulders, maybe the dirt under his fingernails, maybe the tiny blush on his cheeks. He didn't say anything about the sword. He didn't say anything at all, and Lettie wondered if she should start a conversation. But what about? She bit her lip.

All too soon, they reached the house and he was ushered into the back room, where Granny conducted business. They were there a while, and Lettie was very much tempted to eavesdrop but knew would never get away with it. Granny's observation Haki was top-notch.

The door slammed open and Granny stepped out, followed by the boy who was burdened with all sorts of cloth bags and flower pots. "Well don't just stand there, girl! Help him!" She jumped and, in a flurry of awkward exchanges, they divided the burden and started down the beaten dirt path towards the village. But this time, she couldn't hold it back. "How's it like, being a pirate?"

"Oh, it's good, I suppose. It's dangerous, sure, and there's no shortage of work to be done, but I like it. I've a lot of friends aboard the ship."

"That sounds nice."

Yeah.

Their eyes focused ahead, she didn't see him chewing his lip with anxiety and the blush darkening on his cheeks.

"Say, would you like to… to see the ship? It's really amazing."

"I'd love to," she said before she could think.

She looked down. This might be the stupidest thing she's ever done and, coming from the girl who poked a sleeping dragon in the eye for a dare that was saying something.

The other two were waiting at the loaded dinghy. They eyed her questioningly, but accepted to carry her over despite the man shaking his head slightly and the woman pressing her lips in a thin line.

The ship was beautiful. Vegetation overflowed, covering everything in lush green and explosions of color, exotic flowers in fantastic shapes, all kinds of fruit, cool grass, perfectly manicured geometric flowerbeds and a permeating sweet perfume. The ship's figurehead, a woman in flowing dress with a skeletal face painted with flowers and vines, with skeletal hands holding a scythe, gave the ship's name and the warning – _La Bella Muerte_.

But it was nothing compared to the captain. She towered over everybody like some sort of monstrous fairy with her flowing green skirts and cascading burnished copper hair, floating amongst them, leaving behind a trail of iridescent powder and gently twirling petals. Long vines moved on their own accord, lifting the cargo out of the dinghy and posing it along to various crewmembers, presumably to be taken into the storage areas. She almost jumped out of her skin when the boy touched her arm. "This way," he said. "We have to get these to the sickbay garden." "Oh, yeah. Sorry."

He smiled. "It's pretty overwhelming, I know."

"It's amazing," she breathed.

He laughed and led the way. There were busy people everywhere, so it was kind of a relief to be on the beaten path – a garden full of healing herbs. They aligned the flowerpots they had been carrying on a bench and stood back to admire their handiwork. Fragments of conversation drew nearer and they sprang to attention.

"Ughhh, this is too distressing," a high voice wailed rather dramatically. "What shall I do?"

"What you always do. Grind them into fertilizer."

"Don't say things like that, Emily! Ohhh, my poor heart, it beats so fast!"

"Lord, give me strength," the other voice deadpanned. It was lower, more mature and definitely no-nonsense. "Oh, hello, you two. Brought the goods?"

Lettie froze. It was another giant of a woman, followed by the captain. Up close (even though she barely reached her knees), the captain's floating motion revealed itself to be due to the fact that one of her legs was in a cast from ankle to hip, and she was leaning on a crutch, and she swung herself around with more force than strictly necessary. She wasn't a fairy after all. What had she been thinking? Of course she wasn't a fairy. Giants existed, and all the moving vines (a tree sprang from the deck as they stood, its trunk bent in the crude shape of a chair, in which the captain collapsed with a great sigh, pressing the back of her hand over her eyes) were most definitely Devil-Fruit-related.

As she stared, a large blue eye cracked open and regarded her intently. "Who are you?" she asked bluntly.

"Lettie. I came to… uhm…" she waved her hand towards the flowerpots.

"Know anything about herbs?"

"A bit."

"Wanna join my crew?"

"A little bit."

Whether it was about the herbs or the joining a pirate crew, it was rather irrelevant.

"Welcome aboard then. Eeeeeliaaas, my sweet, bring me my smelling salts."

"He'll do no such thing. There's nothing wrong with you," the other woman said tartly. "Boy, take miss Lettie to Kate and then see to the ledger."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, grabbed Lettie's wrist and dragged her away. "I can't believe you're gonna stay!" he was saying. "This is awesome!"

_Stay. Stay here. On a pirate ship._

"No, I… I have to go tell Granny, I can't just…"

He smacked his forehead.

"Of course! How could I forget? You have to get your things and say goodbye! Hold on, gotta talk to Kate."

Lettie remembers Granny's back to her. Her voice is steady and her shoulders straight, just like always.

"I knew this day'd come. You're a child of the sea, after all."

"Don't say it like that! I…"

"Don't even think about not going just to prove a point. He was your father and you can't change that. But you are you, and you can be whoever you want. Go."

The Captain's name is Serena. There is nothing serene about her and she'll be the first to admit it, because that's just how she rolls. She might over-exaggerate and be the drama queen to end all drama queens, but the important truths will be thrown at you like punches. She knows Lettie's full name but at the end of the day that's just what it is – a name. The girl, monstrously strong, hard-headed, forgetful, loving, fearless, has very little to do with it.


	4. When there's no mace, try pineapples

Captain Dian hummed tunelessly while stabbing viciously at her ice-cream. A freak gust of wind had thrown dust, a leaf, what looked like a caterpillar and a considerable amount of Dian's hair into it, so it was okay to disrespect it like that. Also, the coffee they served was the most horrible thing she had ever tasted. And Garp was somewhere in town wreaking havoc. All in all, her day was just peachy.

"Uhm. Miss?" a small voice sounded somewhere to her left.

She halted in her butchering of a popular dance song to peer through a half-lidded eye at the small cadet next to her and made a non-committal noise.

"Should we… uhm… look for Vice-Admiral Garp? It's 25 minutes past regroup-time."

...they had a regroup time?

She waved him away and relocated her chin in her other hand, but he was still there, just a tiny spark in his eye. She sighed and stood, throwing a long shadow over the bespectacled boy. "Go ahead. I'll pay and catch up."

Finally he moved away and she signaled the waiter. A tall man in crisp white appeared out of nowhere in front of her. Well. At least this one looked competent, not like the waiter from before who probably couldn't find his own ass with both hands and a map. She started to ask him a question but the words died hideously in her throat as the man grasped her hand and stared at her with hearts in his eyes. Shit. She wished she was in the habit of wearing her Marine captain's coat or at least a cap which, according to her sister and cousins, worked wonderfully as a deterrent for possible suitors.

And her nails were freshly done, too.

That is, until an object came at very high speed and connected viciously to the side of the man's head, followed by a bellowed "stop harassing women in the street, jackass!" and the would-be Romeo scurried away in record time, leaving a flabbergasted Marine with her hand still in the air and staring blankly at a half-squished pineapple laying at her feet.

... was that...?


	5. PirateLance part 1

So a swordsman, a talking reindeer, a magical bird and a revolutionary walk into a bar.

"I told you, it was to the left!" Chopper was saying.

"And I went left!"

"Do you even know which is left?"

"Sure I do!" Zoro waved his right arm.

Chopper had no answer to that, so he took a seat next to his nakama and stared blearily into his ginger ale, while the swordsman was already downing his second mug of proper ale.

There was a fuzzy, buzzing silence in the bar. They heard the door open and the scrape of barstools over hardwood floor as though it was somewhere far away and not on either side of them, where a blond man in a purple shirt and a man with a tattered blue top hat had both taken seats. Zoro cracked his good eye and stared at his neighbor.

"Hey," he said. "Aren't you that fancy goose from Marineford?"

In turn, Marco the Phoenix cracked an eye and regarded the man with a bored expression.

"One strawhat, two strawhats," he said.

"You can count! What other tricks can you do?" Top Hat said with a huge grin that showcased a missing tooth on the top row.

"I can deliver all sorts of ass kickings. Interested?"

Top Hat smiled a little mellower and raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. "I'm just in for a drink and a chat with the lovely miss…" he faltered as he looked at the barmaid. She smiled at him. She was a buxom young woman with curly blond hair and a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Name's Tika," she said. "What can I get you?"

"Uhmm. Is Melanie here?"

"Don't know any Melanie."

"Oh. Must be in the wrong place, then. I'll go look for her in some other place," he said as he stood up and left.

"But this is the only inn in Solace!"

Marco and Chopper simultaneously chocked on their drinks. Zoro went on chugging without a care in the world.

"Inn?" Marco gasped

"Solace?" Chopper growled. That feral sound got Zoro's attention, and he frowned at the small, peaceful, cheerful reindeer who seemed close to frothing at the mouth. "You idiot, where the hell did you take us?"

"How the hell should I know?"

At the same time two girlish screams split trough Chopper's sensitive ears, which made him even angrier. One scream came from Tika. She was looking at Marco, whose chest was engulfed in blue flames.

"What?" he said.

The other came from outside.

"S-Sorcery!" Tika gasped. Marco looked mildly interested. "No, it's…" he caught the broom handle she had swung at him and went on, "Devil Fruit. I was just trying to clear my airways." Tika looked slightly mollified. "You mean you're a cleric?" "A what?" "You don't aaaaaaaaah!" she yelled again, this time at Chopper, whose anger had made him change into his Heavy Point. There was a commotion and screams outside, so the reindeer grabbed Zoro and Marco and ran out, stopping next to Top Hat who was gaping, open-mouthed, at very big trees with houses in them and a dragon soaring in the sky.

Meanwhile…

Monkey D. Dragon ground his teeth irritably. On his right was Emporio Ivankov, on his left was a normally very wise Angler-Fishwoman, both of which were not in the least useful right now, staring at the oddest assortment of people possible. There was a mustached fellow in armor with a horned helmet, a fellow with pointy ears, a short beardy old man with a very big axe, another short man with darting eyes that made Dragon rather weary about his wallet, a pale, sickly young man with golden pupils shaped like hourglasses wearing red robes and leaning on a staff and a burly young man laden with steel. He sighed. It was going to be a long day.

TBC

**This is a sort-of crossover with Dragonlance. Looks like Solace has the wrong knight (Zoro), cleric (Marco), wizard (Sabo) and ****healer**** barbarian (Chopper – you'll see why) to save them from the dragon, while Dragon meets Sturm Brightblade, Tanis Half-Elven, Flint, Tasselhof Burrfoot and Raistlin and Caramon Majere. **

**Also. I went with my cousin to see the park in our old town and they had black swans. My cousin pointed and said look, fancy geese! Sorry Marco. **


	6. Ladies' man

It was Ace's 37th attempt to kill Whitebeard and while the man himself was still without a scratch, not the same thing could be said about Blond Nurse nr. 3 (her name was Caramel. Not to be confused with Blond Nurse nr. 2, Cherry, or Blond Nurse nr. 1, Candy. And yes, those were their legit names, written on their birth certificates and everything. Also, concerning said birth certificates, Ace was very curious as to the parentage of these women who, despite the sweet names, were the spawn of Dr. House and the Wicked Witch of the West except they didn't melt if you threw water on them. Which leads to the current predicament). Blond Nurse nr. 3 had singed hair and was drenched in the murky water somebody had been using to scrub the deck and that's why she was chasing Ace, yelling at him to stop so she could strangle him with the stethoscope.

After twenty minutes or so, long after everybody had gotten bored with the show did Ace manage to ditch Caramel and hide in Marco's room, leaning heavily against the door. Then he heard the _noises_. He turned so slowly his joints creaked. There was Marco. He was leaning against Thatch, pressed against him while the chef's hands were roaming over his body and his lips were leaving hickeys all over his neck and shoulders. Ace gulped as Thatch's eyes found his. The man was usually cheerful and mellow, but the look he had now was downright feral, sending chills down his spine. He rolled his hips, making Marco fall against him with a barely audible moan and smirked, eyes still boring into Ace's. "Wanna join us, new kid?" he said.

Ace gulped, face going redder by the nanosecond.

Then he turned and ran.

"Poor sod," Marco commented.

"Yeah," Thatch said, nuzzling his lover's hair.

"Somebody should have a talk with the nurses."

"Probably."

"I'll leave it to you, then. You're the ladies' man, after all."

"What?!"

**... damn you, purple skunk.**


End file.
